


Maintaining your Morty: rubber ricky makes bathtime so much fun

by phadedphoque



Series: rick and morty don’t have sex (until they do) [6]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Boypussy morty, Cleaning Kink, Daddy Kink, Let me know if you need more tags!, M/M, Other, Scent Kink, seriously lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23679205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phadedphoque/pseuds/phadedphoque
Summary: Morty stinks 😷 rick cleans him up 🧼(I RAN OUT OF CLEVER NAMES FOR A TITLE)
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Series: rick and morty don’t have sex (until they do) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602316
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	Maintaining your Morty: rubber ricky makes bathtime so much fun

Morty’s going through puberty... he'd always been an awkward kid, and definitely what you'd call a late bloomer. Part of that was Rick's fault-- stunted growth makes for a more compliant Morty. But when he's around 17 he starts to stink, bad. Rick can smell him from around the corner.  Again, partially his fault: at this age he's in peak condition to be running around, helping Rick with whatever he may be up to. He knows what the smell is, the stench of arousal: can practically envision the wet spot in the crotch of his briefs. It’s starting to drive him crazy, though he's unsure if it's just his artificially enhanced olfactory senses or his perverted paranoia. One thing's for sure, he's gonna have to give this kid a good bathing.

He waits until they’re alone to bring it up, doesn’t want to bring it up in front of the other family members to embarrass the kid. Lord knows he doesn’t need to make this any more awkward than it already is. 

“M-morty we need to talk”

He stands up, walks Morty towards the direction of the chemical shower in the corner of the bunker. 

“You-you’re-- and i don’t say this li- _ uurp- _ lightly, you’re disgusting”. 

Morty’s eyes are wide, deer in the headlights style. 

“g-Geeze, Rick, seriously? I’ll take the hint.”

He tries to walk away, feigning nonchalance, but Rick pushes back his shoulder. 

“C’mon, strip.”

Morty looks calm but Rick can tell he’s been practicing his facade. Even if he doesn’t  _ look _ scared, Rick can smell it on him. 

“Morty.”

Rick grabs his wrist.

“I’m not joking. Get in the - _ uuurp- _ shower.” 

Morty pulls his hand back and tenders it for dramatic effect.

“Sh-sheesh Rick, alright”

His grandson looks away first, signals his submission and does what he’s told. 

Rick turns around but glances over his shoulder every so often to make sure he’s still there, doesn't miss the way Morty’s arms quiver while trying to undress himself and keep composure. When he’s down to the last sock Rick walks around him and turns the shower on, making sure it’s nice and warm. He rolls up his own sleeves, ready to get to work. 

He nods in the direction of the water and Morty complies, stepping back to let the water drench him. 

Rick pirouettes him around, holding him by the hip. With a cotton cloth he’d lathered with a soap of his own design, a scent of his own making, he begins to scrub circles into Morty’s back. He watches the tops of his shoulder blades relax, a sign he’s starting to enjoy the massaging Rick is adding to his cleaning: Routine maintenance required to keep tools working well. He digs his thumbs harder into Morty’s shoulder blades. The contrast between bacne scars and one’s he’d earned from close calls is odd, reminds Rick just how young he is, how proportionately so much more of his life has been spent in chaos. Rick’d ruined any chance Morty would ever have at a normal life, moulded like soft clay without a trace of remorse. He continues to knead at stressed shoulders of his creation, the bisque not yet fired into something hard, like himself. 

He lifts Morty’s arm above his head, scrubbing underneath his wiry pit hair. He squeezes Morty’s muscles while he cleans, surprised at how they’ve started to fill out. His grandson hasn’t always been a looker but he’s started to grow into his body, and in the right light he might almost be considered handsome. His face is still babyish though, the curve of it ever so slightly feminine. Yet, in his eyes and brow Rick sees himself, the darkening circles that reveal his exhaustion. He lets go of the hand and grabs for the other. He’s limp like a doll, moves easily in his palms. He scrubs hard at the pituitary glands in his armpits. He lathers Morty's pits with shaving cream, though he probably could have just used scissors; his hair’s so damn long. He holds his armpit taut, the razor sharp to get the job done. He wonders if he should’ve used an epillator, ripped the hair out one by one, just for a little torture, just to make him squirm a bit. But he figures it’s best to get this over quickly so the boy doesn’t get any  _ ideas _ . He shaves the hair with cold precision, leaving smooth newly exposed skin in the tool’s wake. He runs a finger over the bristles, lets them prickle against his fingertip. Now the scent can’t linger in his hair.

Rick moves to turn the shower off, then ghosts his way down Morty’s abdomen, following his happy trail down to the untamed mass of his pubes. This time he does use his scissors to groom the plentiful curls. He pulls the hair and the skin at the opening of his cunt stretches with it. Morty’s legs shift and he makes a noise in his throat Rick makes note of. Rick continues to trim with the scissors, snipping excessively.

“Hold still” Rick chides.

The cold, metal blades are surely torture on the delicate skin of his mons, Rick traces the edge of his vulva with them, much too close for comfort. He watches Morty take a step in discomfort and gasp when the metal pokes his thigh a bit too hard. 

When he’s done trimming, he admires his handiwork, looks at the clear view he’s got of Morty’s beautiful boy pussy, the way the tiny red bit of his cocklet peeks through the blushing pinks of his lips. Rick rubs the head of it with his callused thumb. 

“Ri-rick! You’re not sup, supposed to touch--”

Rick pulls open his folds to reveal the thick, rosy pearl between them. 

Mortys breathing heavies, gasping occasionally at times when Rick moves his hands too fast, bumping his nub. When Rick finally pulls back the skin around his head morty practically shrieks, the epicenter of his pleasure being targeted. 

“I--! Rick--! it really--!”

“Exactly as I expected, look at all this”

Rick swipes his finger around Morty's clit and he howls, curling over himself and slamming his legs shut. Rick is quick to open him back up again, continuing his mission to clean up his disgusting grandson. 

“Nobody, nobody ever told you you need to clean  _ u-urrrp-under _ the head?”

Rick tsks his tongue at what he finds, some of the smegma underneath his folds having hardened. He shuffles through his supplies and soaks a cotton ball in peroxide. 

“This’ll-- just be a bit... well, you’ll see”

Morty hisses as the cotton ball makes contact with his clit, the peroxide bubbling on the grime. 

“Ah-ah!”

He shakes his hips forward at the tingling sensation, his body overwhelmed with the stimulus, a painful, pleasureful ordeal. 

Rick saves morty from the torture when he turns the water back on and rinses over his pussy, the gentle massage of warm water from the shower head soothing but also stimulating in it’s own numbing, repetitive way. 

“Spread”.

Rick assists with his curt demand, pushing Morty's legs open even wider. He pulls his lips even further apart, giving his urethra a quick examination. He continues his rinse of Morty’s cunt, spraying water inside of him. Rick can smell the scent fading already, the water already erasing the earlier signs of his clear excitement from earlier. Just to cover his bases, he spins Morty around once again and spreads his cheeks. Rick suds up a bit more soap at the tip of his fingers and rubs Morty's hole. Again he helps as Rick pokes just the tip of his middle finger in, feels him clench in surprise. Rick smirks as he pulls out and rinses once again, hole clenching around suds being washed away: the winking reward of a job well done. 

He turns off the shower for good this time and hands Morty a towel to dry off with. He looks like a drowned rat, soaking in his pubescent shame. 

Sighing, Rick walks over and starts to roughly dry his hair. It’s awkward and surely uncomfortable but it’s the only sort of nicety Rick can think of. The two continue in silence until Morty is dry and Rick turns around to leave the guy to get dressed. It’s his usual garb but this time his boxers are made out of breathable cotton, Rick’s own favorite brand. 

  
  
  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Ty so much for reading and the encouragement from twitter! Always taking requests, find me @freder1ck_fry on twitter!


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